


bravest, newest person

by justbreathe80



Category: ReGenesis
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-15
Updated: 2009-12-15
Packaged: 2017-10-04 11:01:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justbreathe80/pseuds/justbreathe80
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Toronto to O'Hare, O'Hare to PDX, rental car west on 26 to the Oregon Coast Highway, a little town ten miles south of Cannon Beach called Arch Cape. Jill's house was small, but well kept, the angry waves of the northern Pacific crashing against the rocky beach out front.</p>
            </blockquote>





	bravest, newest person

**Author's Note:**

> bohemian__storm asked for ReGenesis het fic, and since I love this pairing to bits and pieces, I was more than happy to deliver. I hope you like it! Many thanks to brooklinegirl for the beta, and I want to dedicate this to lilac_one. I'm not sure if you dig this pairing, babe, but it's ReGenesis! And I wrote it! So here it is.*g*
> 
> SPOILERS for all of Season 3. If you haven't seen it, this is not safe!

  
Jill called again.

To be perfectly fucking frank, David hadn’t expected it. Not this soon, anyway. Not after the way she’d sounded the last time they talked – still fragile, a little on edge. Not ready. She wasn’t ready.

There had been a million things right on the end of his tongue to say to her the last time, all the things that he’d said at her bedside when he was sure she was just going to fucking _die_ on him, just like that, but he couldn’t say them. And he was pretty sure she didn’t want to hear them anyway.

This time, she called when he was sitting alone at his kitchen table, a piece of grilled chicken and an arugula salad on his plate, catching, in his peripheral vision, the neat row of glass bottles, full of amber liquid, in the living room.

“Yeah?” he barked into the phone, still finishing his last bite, tasting the phantom sharp bite of whiskey against the back of throat.

“Hi, David,” Jill said, and he felt himself smiling, even though he didn’t want to. He wasn’t up to it, not after the last few weeks. Wisconsin and Joanna and everything, falling apart. He pushed his chair back from the table, the half-eaten food, and walked into the living room.

He settled down on the couch, the leather cool against the bare skin on his arms. “Well, shit, Jill. How are you?”

It was like night and day from the last time they’d talked – Jill sounded almost _happy_ this time, or at least less fucked-up, which was saying a lot. She had an adjunct teaching position at Portland State secured for the next year and a rented house right on the beach. She sounded like they all wished they felt, but none of them got enough sleep or enough distance for that. Jill sounded like she’d gotten both.

“David?” Jill said softly, and he realized he hadn’t listened to a goddamn thing she’d said in the last few minutes. He was too busy remembering how she smelled, the way her hair felt between his fingers.

“I’m here. Yeah. Keep talking.”

*****

David took three days of personal time (courtesy of a message on Wes’ voicemail that said, “Wes, I’m going out of town. I’ll be back when I am.”), and a cab to the airport. Toronto to O’Hare, O’Hare to PDX, rental car west on 26 to the Oregon Coast Highway, a little town ten miles south of Cannon Beach called Arch Cape. Jill’s house was small, but well kept, the angry waves of the northern Pacific crashing against the rocky beach out front.

Jill was standing at the bottom of the front stairs, a slight smile on her face, wearing a knee length denim skirt and a blue polo shirt. Her hair had gotten longer, and was pulled back from her face in a ponytail.

He pulled the Honda rental a little too fast into the gravel driveway and threw it into park.

“Hey,” Jill said, walking closer, her hands in her pockets, as David pulled his bag out of the back seat and slung it over his shoulder. “How was the drive?”

“Good. I’ve actually never been here before.” He waved his hands in the general direction of the stormy water. “Apparently no biological crises here. Yet.”

“That’s what I like about it,” Jill replied, waiting for David before she turned around and led him into the house.

The living room still had a few boxes scattered around, but it also felt like Jill had really settled in – virology journals on the coffee table, the afghan her grandmother had knitted draped over the back of the overstuffed, blue couch, half-empty coffee cup next to the journals. David ran his hand through his hair, pushing it off his face, and dropped his bag next to the couch. It was heavy.

And he knew, surely and swiftly, that Jill wasn’t coming back.

“Nice place,” he said, suddenly feeling awkward. He never felt this way around Jill, not even the first time he’d met her in Chicago. Hell, he’d _slept_ with her a few hours later, and awkwardness was not something he ever felt around women. He was off his game. Not that he’d ever had much game with Jill.

Jill picked up the coffee cup off of the table and walked into the kitchen. “Thanks,” she called back, “can I get you anything?”

“Gin?” David called back.

Jill peeked her head out of the kitchen doorway, grinning and rolling her eyes.

“Water?”

“Ugh.” David walked into the kitchen, watching Jill as she poured two glasses of water from a Brita pitcher. “You know those things don’t do jack shit, right?”

Jill jumped and poured some water on the counter. “You scared the shit out of me. And it makes me feel better, so fuck you.” Grabbing a towel, she mopped the spilled water up, and hung the towel back up.

David’s hands felt numb, and he didn’t know what to do with them. The truth was, his limbs hadn’t worked right in weeks, not since Joanna had fucking _died_ and he thought, after losing Jill, after Jill just walked the fuck out like that, he’d never let himself go that far again, and then he did. And Joanna was gone. Everything was fucking off-kilter.

So he did the only thing that made sense to him in the best of times, and the worst of times, and moved over to press his body up against Jill’s.

Jill went still, then cleared her throat. “You know, David, this actually isn’t the reason I asked you to come.”

“Yeah, I know,” he said, his voice low, pushing his face into her neck.

“How’s Rachel working out?” Jill said, sounding a little strangled, and David laughed quietly into her hair. He kissed the soft skin under her ear. She still smelled the same, minus the smell of developer and the addition of the sea air.

Her hands were pressed against the marble counter top, and David slid his hands down her arms and tangled their fingers together. “She’s good. Second best virologist I’ve ever worked with, even if she is a right-wing nut job.”

“Hmm.” Jill almost purred, pushing her hips back minutely, and David could feel the sound throughout her body, pressed tightly against his. “How’s everyone else?”

“They’re all complete disasters,” he whispered, right in her ear. It was the truth – they all were, David included. “Do you really want to talk about the lab right now? I thought you came here for some space.”

“You’re not giving me any space, David.”

“I think you’re right,” he said, backing off, letting her turn around before grabbing her hand. “Where’s your bedroom?"

*****

Jill had lost a little bit of weight. He took in the sight of his own hands anchored on her bare waist, and noticed that his fingers came closer to joining. He wondered if she was worried, if she was taking care of herself, or if, like the rest of them, she couldn’t force herself to eat, sometimes.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this again,” Jill murmured as she worked open David’s belt. He could feel his fingers again as he reached around her too-thin frame to unclasp her bra.

“You never could resist it. Not even the first day we met.” he shot back, and Jill laughed. The sound was so fucking _good_ that David couldn’t do anything but kiss her, hands scrabbling at her neck, her face. He couldn’t get goddamn close enough to her, no matter how hard he tried.

Jill’s bed was soft – less a gigantic fucking ball of fluff like most women’s beds, but still better than his own – when he pushed her gently down onto it, on her back. He had no idea when they’d lost all of their clothes, but he didn’t give a shit, because he was taking the condom from Jill’s outstretched hand and rolling it down his cock.

Fucking Jill was like the strangest mix of innately familiar and totally foreign that David had ever experienced. It still felt the same to slide into her, wet and tight and perfect, like every time before when they’d done this, and she still made the same soft, desperate noise every time he thrust into her, and they still made him as crazy as they always did.

He was, though, acutely aware of the fact that he’d done this, this same frantic, desperate tumble, with other women since Jill had left. He was aware of the fact that Jill didn’t know how he felt, even though, with the possible exception of his ex-wife, she was one of the only people he’d been able to tell.

Jill’s skin was warm and sweaty against his, and this was precisely, exactly what he had needed. He braced himself above her with one hand and slipped the other down between them, sliding his fingertips against her clit.

“Oh, god,” Jill groaned, rocking her hips back against him, and he worked her, a little too hard, probably, and fast, and within minutes she was gasping and coming around him. He stayed still inside her, riding it out before he let her take some of his weight and really started to fuck her.

Jill’s arms came up shakily around his neck, stroking down his neck and back. David made his strokes into her pussy deep and hard, and closed his eyes.

When a crystal-clear, technicolor image of Joanna, wearing the sly smile she'd worn just before she got him off in his _car_ on the side of the road, he blinked his eyes open and focused on Jill. She was beautiful. God, he’d fucking missed her so much.

A few seconds later, he came, but it was almost like an afterthought, like it didn’t even matter because that’s not what he went there for. He tied off the condom and threw it toward the wastebasket, and let himself drift off to sleep with his tingling legs tangled with Jill’s pale, thin ones.

*****

“Hey.”

David opened his eyes, squinting, but it wasn’t bright in the room. In fact, it was sunset, from what he could see through the white drapes. “Hey,” he said hoarsely.

Jill sighed and propped her head up on her hand, looking down at him, frowning. “Listen, I know you hate to get all talky after sex, but are you okay?” She was still naked, and he wanted to stroke along the curve of her breast. He loved her tits. And it was better than pouring out his soul, or whatever she wanted him to do.

“Of course I’m not okay, christ, Jill. Have I ever been okay?”

“Well, no. Not really,” Jill conceded with a small smile. “But it’s not that. Did something happen?”

David looked back up at the ceiling, and considered the ghosts in the room. Ghosts that had no right to be in his relationship, or lack thereof, with Jill, but they were there anyway, and they weren’t letting him off easy. “Carlos’ ex-wife died,” he said, his voice giving up a little at the end.

“Okay, wait, Carlos was married? What? What happened?” She sat up a little more, looking alarmed and confused simultaneously

“They were married a long time ago, before Carlos came out. She was a scientist too, with the CDC.”

He could tell by looking at Jill’s expression that she knew something was missing. “How?”

“She –“ David swallowed, hard. “She contracted an antibiotic-resistant strain of C. Difficile, from the soil in a fucking potted _plant_. It was quick at least.” He took a deep breath. “I was sleeping with her.”

“Shit,” Jill breathed out, and David was surprised when she pulled him into a fierce hug. Like he'd half-he expected her to behave like a woman scorned. “I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah. This has been a fucking horrible year.”

“No kidding,” Jill said, leaning in and pressing a kiss to the corner of David’s mouth. David shifted his head enough to get her lips fully on his, and licked his way into her mouth. Nothing had been fucking _right_ until now, until he came to this place. Until he found this again.

Jill moaned against his mouth, pushing her leg between his and letting him grind up against her. “Fuck,” he groaned, so close already, just from the proximity, he thought he might explode. “I love you.”

“Me too. I – yeah,” Jill said, gently guiding his hand back down between her legs. She was still slick and hot, still open, and he slid two fingers inside her and played her clit with his thumb until she came, again, sighing.

*****

Blissfully, miraculously, David’s phone stayed silent for the rest of the night, and he made omelets and coffee and they ate and talked and slept in Jill’s bed for the rest of the night. In the morning, he put on a clean pair of jeans and a henley, debated shaving but decided against it. Jill was out cold, face down in the wrinkled white sheets that smelled like them, and the ocean.

David sat down on the edge of the bed, and then, his phone rang. It was Wes, demanding to know where he was, and David mostly tuned him out mostly as he droned on about the latest fucking crisis. “I’ll be there in seven hours, okay?” he finally yelled, and then hung up.

“’Morning,” Jill said groggily, turning over and smiling up at him. “You going?”

_No. Fuck, no, never._ “Wes is completely fucking flipping out, so yeah.”

“Okay.” Jill pushed the sheets off of her naked body, and David sat on his hands as she stood up and picked up the previous day’s clothes off of the floor. He wanted to reach out to her – she was more of a temptation than an entire liquor store, far more, and he knew he should stay away just as much.

David looked away, shoving his dirty clothes into his duffel, while Jill dressed.

“David,” Jill said, her voice a little desperate, when they reached the bottom of her front stairs. “I – we – thank you for coming. It was really good to see you.”

The inane response was on his lips, it was right there. _Thanks for having me. Keep in touch._ Instead, he bodily picked her up and kissed her, holding onto her for dear life. In that moment, it was almost as if the last half a year was erased, like they might be able to start over, somehow.

“Okay,” he said, setting her back down on her feet on the paving stones. “Okay.” He fought a smile. Christ, he was walking away from her, going back to Toronto and the lab and the ghosts, and he felt better than he had in months. Years, even.

“I’ll call you,” Jill said, and David turned around to get one last glimpse of her. Denim skirt, polo shirt, her hair a sex-styled mess around her head. She was smiling too, a real smile, a fucking great thing.

He tossed his bag in the back seat, and pulled out of the driveway, back onto the Oregon Coast Highway until it hit the highway back to Portland, the plane back to Toronto, back to life.

He memorized the sound of the gravel crunching underneath the wheels. His phone, haphazardly thrown on the passenger seat, rang again.


End file.
